Berried Alive (Manor House Mystery) (18 page)

"Nonsense, Martin. If you would like to go I'm sure we can arrange something," Elizabeth assured him. She caught Martin's eye, and saw desperation in them. A faint shake of his head convinced her. "Then again," she added hurriedly, "his duties do rather exclude any extended trips. Perhaps another time?"

Beatrice looked disappointed. "I'll think of something," she promised.

Martin's expression stated clearly that he sincerely hoped she wouldn't.

"Well, I must be off." Beatrice moved to the door, waiting pointedly for Martin to open it for her.

He did so with far more alacrity than usual, Elizabeth noticed.

Bidding them both good night, Beatrice stomped out of the door.

Martin barely waited long enough for her to clear the threshold before heaving the door closed behind her. "Thank goodness," he said, wiping imaginary sweat from his brow. "I thought we would never be rid of her."

"I was under the impression that you rather liked Mrs. Carr. You certainly defended her most gallantly when Violet mentioned her the other morning."

Martin shuffled his feet, teetering from side to side. "Yes, well, she is a charming woman, no doubt, but I would
rather not invite her onto the premises. I'm quite sure Violet would be most unpleasant to her if she saw her."

Elizabeth studied his face. "Are you quite sure that's the reason you didn't want her to come in?"

"I can't imagine what you mean, madam."

"I mean, could the reason you didn't want her here be because she's wearing your glasses?"

Martin's face turned a dull red. "I was rather hoping you hadn't noticed."

"Yes, well, it would be a little difficult not to notice them. After all, the entire household has been searching for them for several days."

"Yes, I must apologize for that, madam." Martin hunched his shoulders, making him look even more aged than usual. "The truth is, I felt sorry for the woman. She sells the raffle tickets to help with the war effort, but her eyesight is so dismal she was finding it difficult to read the list of prizes available. Not only that, she was getting the tickets mixed up."

"So you gave her your glasses," Elizabeth shook her head. "Why didn't you tell us?"

Martin straightened his back as well as he could. "Can you imagine the tirade Violet would have given me every time she set eyes on me? I don't need the glasses, madam. Beatrice Carr does. She can't afford to buy them, so I gave her mine. She was most grateful."

"I'm sure she was," Elizabeth said dryly. "Very well, Martin, as long as you can manage without them. But if I find that you are having trouble getting around without them, I shall insist that she give them back to you."

"Yes, madam. Thank you, madam. Will that be all?"

"Not quite." Elizabeth glanced at the clock. "I'm
expecting the major to join me for dinner. No doubt Violet has already informed you. I shall wait for him as usual in the conservatory."

"Oh, the major is already here." Martin began his long slow shuffle across the hallway. "He arrived some time ago. I showed him into the library."

Elizabeth uttered a little gasp of horror. So much time wasted that could have been spent with him. She sped across the hallway to the library and flung open the doors.

Earl sat in one of the armchairs, apparently engrossed in the book he held on his knees. He looked up as she hurried in, his smile banishing her dismay. "Hi," he said softly. "You look glamorous this evening."

Thoroughly flustered, Elizabeth flapped a hand to fan her warm face. "Thank you. I'm so sorry to keep you waiting."

"Not to worry. I've been enjoying this." He held up the copy of A
Farewell to Arms
. "Fascinating writer, that Hemingway."

"I quite agree." She sank on to the opposite armchair, her heart still warmed by his compliment. She couldn't remember anyone ever calling her glamorous before. "I understand the novel is largely biographical."

"Really?" He turned it over in his hands. "That makes it all the more interesting."

"Take it with you. I'm sure you'll enjoy it. It's an enthralling story." She was tempted to tell him how it ended, but managed to contain herself.

"Thanks, I'd like that. I'll give it back as soon as I've read it."

She nodded. "Are you hungry?"

"Starving." He looked at his watch. "I wanted to talk to
you first before we go to the dining room. There's something you should know."

She felt a pang of apprehension. "Not bad news, I hope?"

"Well, kind of, I guess. I'm sorry to have to tell you, another of our guys died today."

"Oh, no." She put her hand over her mouth in distress. "Not more poisoning?"

"It looks like it." He put the book down on the table by his side and leaned back. "He was at the Tudor Arms earlier, got sick in the night and by this morning he was dead. Same symptoms as the other guys."

Elizabeth felt a chill. "It sounds as if the Tudor Arms could well be the source of the poison. What do your medics say?"

"Well. I haven't talked to them personally, but word on the base is that all military personnel have been warned not to eat or drink anything off the base unless they are quite sure it's harmless. They're considering declaring the Tudor Arms off limits."

"Oh, dear. This will upset Alfie and the owners of the pub. Not only that, it will hinder our efforts to apprehend the persons responsible. Then again, if the Americans don't drink the beer down there, they probably won't patronize the Arms, and the offenders will find another place to use their deadly poison."

"Unless they can prove the beer down there hasn't been tampered with."

"So your authorities at the base are treating the deaths as deliberate, then?"

He shrugged. "I guess so. I haven't heard anything about an investigation, but these guys can be pretty tight-lipped
about what they're doing. What about you? Have you heard anything?"

She told him about the attack the night before, surprised to learn that he hadn't heard about it.

"They must not think it's connected," he said, when she was finished. "Or they would have put it in the report."

"I was wondering if either of the fellows who were beaten had red hair," Elizabeth said. "Could you possibly find out?"

He frowned. "Now that you mention it, the guy who died this morning had red hair."

Elizabeth hissed out her breath. "Then it appears there might be a connection after all. I thought as much."

"I don't know about the guys who got beat up last night." Earl looked worried. "You really think these musketeer guys are behind all this?"

"Well, I found out that the man Dick Adelaide's daughter was going out with didn't have red hair, so that rather lets him out of the picture, so to speak, don't you think? Though I suppose it could still all be a huge coincidence."

"I don't know." Earl's brow crinkled in frustration. "It seems such a lousy reason to kill someone, just because he has red hair."

"And is American," Elizabeth reminded him.

"Yeah, that too. But lots of folks have it in for us, so that's easier to understand. Though I don't think anyone's taken it this far before."

"Well, we'll have a better idea when we know if any of the men involved in last night's incident have red hair. If at least one of them does, I think we can conclude that these men could well be targeted by the infamous three musketeers."

"For whatever reason," Earl murmured. "I'd sure like to know the answer to that one."

"Whatever the reason, these men have to be apprehended. Even if they're not responsible for the deaths, they've already caused enough harm and damage to have criminal charges brought against them."

"I agree with that. I'll have a word with the MPs at the base. Though they're probably already looking for them."

"Oh, would you?" Elizabeth smiled at him in relief. "I'd feel better if I knew something is being done about them."

"I'm not promising anything. So far our guys are playing this whole thing down. But now that someone else has died, they might just figure they have enough to go ahead with a full investigation. If our little decoy plan works, we might even get our hands on the bad guys tonight."

"I certainly hope so. I hope Sadie and that nice young man she's with don't come to any harm. I feel quite concerned about them."

"Try not to worry too much about them. Joe Hanson is a very capable young man and he'll take real good care of Sadie. I promise you."

"Yes, well, all I can say is that I'll be happy to see her return. I just hope that this plan works and we can catch the culprits." A thought made her pause. "What will Lieutenant Hanson do if he does see something suspicious? I hope he's not planning to take on three men single-handedly?"

Earl shook his head. "He has orders to call the base from the pub. I've already cleared it with Alfie. The MPs can be there very shortly, and they'll question the suspects and if necessary, take them back to the base."

"Well," Elizabeth murmured, somewhat reassured, "I suppose that will be all right then." She slid off the chair
and smoothed down her skirt. "In the meantime, why don't we find out what Violet has cooked up for us tonight."

"Sounds like a good idea." He joined her at the door and linked her arm in his. "Lead the way, your ladyship. I'm more than ready."

So was she, Elizabeth thought wryly. Though not necessarily for the meal. Inwardly scolding herself for her lascivious thoughts, she proceeded with him to the dining room.

Sadie clung to Joe's arm as they walked through the door of the pub, determined to play the part of a loving girlfriend to the hilt. The fact that Joe seemed uncomfortable with the pretense only made her all the more anxious to put on a good show.

At least one of them would have to make it look good, and judging by the way Joe held himself as stiff and straight as a telephone pole, it was all going to fall on her.

In fact, she was a little miffed that he wasn't enjoying it as much as she'd hoped. All right, so it was all pretense in order to catch the mean blokes what were causing all this trouble, but he could at least make the effort to look as if he were having a good time. She felt like she was dragging him around with her like a sack of moldy potatoes.

Seating herself on one of the bar stools, she grinned at Alfie, who winked back at her. "I'll have me usual, luv," she called out.

Alfie nodded, finished serving the British soldiers lounging at the end of the counter, then poured a gin and orange for her. Setting it down in front of her, he glanced at Joe. "All right, mate. What'll it be?"

"Beer," Joe said. He stared into the long mirror that lined the back of the bar. "Make it a pint of bitter."

"Coming up." Alfie poured the beer and set the foaming
tankard on the counter. Joe handed over a pound note and waited for his change.

"Don't seem as busy tonight." Sadie glanced around. "Want a game of darts?"

"I don't play darts." Joe kept staring at the mirror.

Sadie stared at it, too, but couldn't see anything except the reflection of the room behind them. One of the Yanks was at the piano, playing a bloody awful version of "A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square." A bunch of his mates stood around the piano, trying to sing along. None of them knew the proper words and the stuff they were using to replace them was enough to make a sergeant major's hair curl.

Near the piano a bunch of old women sat with their heads together, trying to be heard above the din. Sadie recognized a couple of them from the Housewives League. Bleeding joke that lot was. Wasting their time hanging around the cliffs waiting for the invasion. If the Nazis ever did invade, what did a bunch of silly women think they were going to do? Beat them off with a frying pan?

Sadie turned her attention to Joe. "Tell me about where you live in America," she said, reaching for her glass.

He flicked a glance at her, then stared back at the mirror. "Minneapolis."

She was none the wiser. She had no idea where the heck Minny-whatever-he'd-said was. Could have been at the end of the world for all she knew.

Two gins later, she still didn't know much more about him. Her frustration was beginning to make her mad. She didn't want to be mad at Joe. She liked him. But if he kept on ignoring her like this, nobody in the pub would think they even knew each other, leave alone were going out.

Deciding it was time to get things moving, Sadie pushed
her empty glass across the counter. "I'll have a shandy, Alfie," she called out.

This at least got Joe's attention. "What's a shandy?" he asked, taking his eyes off the mirror for once.

"It's half beer, half lemonade." She smiled up at him and flapped her eyelashes, which had been heavily coated with Vaseline. "It's lighter for a lady to drink."

He didn't answer her, but coughed up the money and went back to staring at the mirror.

Sadie, feeling just a little tipsy from drinking the gins too fast, leaned toward him. " 'Ere, you are supposed to be my boyfriend, you know."

Joe swivelled his gaze to her face and then back to the mirror again. "I'm buying you drinks, aren't I?"

Sadie pulled back. "I don't know what bleeding for. You're acting as if you hate me."

"I don't hate you." He lowered his voice and spoke out the corner of his mouth. "I'm just concentrating on doing my job."

Leaning toward him again, Sadie whispered fiercely, "Your job is to make these blokes in here think we're potty about each other. They're not going to think that if you act like I've got some 'orrible disease, now are they."

Joe shifted his weight on the bar stool so that he was an inch or two closer. "Is that better?"

"Not really." Sadie sighed. "Haven't you ever had a girlfriend?"

She was intrigued to see a dull red flush on his cheeks. "Of course I have," he said stiffly.

She leaned into him so that her bosoms pressed against his arm. "Go on. Bet you haven't."

He pulled away from her as if he'd been shot. "I'm just not used to being fresh with a stranger."

"Well, if you got to know me a little better, I wouldn't be such a stranger, would I." She drank down some of the shandy, and put her glass down next to his nearly full one. "Come on, luv. Drink up. Maybe it'll loosen you up."