Manor House 03 - For Whom Death Tolls (11 page)

"No, ma'am. If you don't mind. It's a little chilly in here." The captain nodded at his companion. "This is Lieutenant Wiles."

Elizabeth smiled at the other man. He had sandy hair, and clutched his hat as if he were afraid she was going to steal it. His eyes were very blue, and very cold. Not at all like Earl's, which were also steel blue, but unlike
the lieutenant, his were usually as warm and pleasing as the early summer sky.

Lieutenant Wiles failed to return her smile and she walked over to the fireplace, trying to regain her confidence, which wasn't often shaken. She wished Earl could have been there with her to give her support. These men intimidated her for some reason. It wasn't a feeling she was accustomed to, and it unsettled her considerably.

In an effort to keep things on a sociable level, she turned to face them. "May I offer you some hot tea?"

Captain Johansen relaxed his features a fraction. "Coffee would be nice, ma'am, if you have some."

"I'm sure we can manage to find some somewhere." She rang the bell that would summon Martin. Eventually. When a polite tap on the door came almost immediately, she was taken aback for a moment, until instead of her butler, Polly slipped into the room, her face as white as chalk. Her dark eyes looked huge as she shot a frightened glance at the two men, then stared at Elizabeth in mute appeal.

"Come over here, Polly." Elizabeth held out her hand. "Gentlemen, this is Polly Barnett, my assistant. Polly, this is Captain Johansen and Lieutenant Wiles."

"How do you do, sir," Polly said weakly.

Both men touched their foreheads. "Ma'am," they said in unison.

"Sit down, Polly," Elizabeth said firmly. "I'm sure these gentlemen won't take too long."

"We just have a question or two to ask." The captain pulled a notebook from inside his raincoat.

Since both men remained standing, Elizabeth sat down herself before saying pointedly, "I think it would make these proceedings more relaxing if you both took a seat."

"Thank you, ma'am." Captain Johansen sat down on the very edge of a deep, velvet-covered armchair, while
the lieutenant chose the window seat. Neither man looked very comfortable, which made Elizabeth feel slightly better.

Martin must not have been too far away. Just as the captain began to speak, a tap on the door interrupted him. The butler shuffled into the room, peering over the top of his gold-rimmed glasses. "You rang, madam?"

"Yes, Martin. Would you ask Violet to send up some coffee and biscuits. Perhaps some of that cake she made last night?"

"Yes, madam." Martin turned to leave, just as Captain Johansen asked Polly, "At what time did you see Squadron Leader Cutter on the night Private Morris was murdered?"

Polly swallowed a couple of times, and sent a hunted look in Elizabeth's direction.

"Just tell them the truth," Elizabeth said quietly. "You have nothing to be afraid of, Polly."

"Yes, m'm." Polly looked down at her hands and twisted them together in her lap. "I saw him when we got to the church. He was with the other officers and he told me he'd just got there a few minutes before I did. That was a long time after the bells had stopped ringing. Me mum and me sister and me had to stop and get dressed before we went down there."

"And when was the last time you saw him before that?"

Again Polly hesitated, then said in a small voice, "At the Tudor Arms on Saturday night."

"When he was fighting with Private Morris?"

Polly looked as if she were about to cry. "Yes, but—"

"You didn't see him again until you saw him at the church on Sunday night?"

"No, sir, I didn't."

"Excuse me, madam," Martin said from the doorway. "I remember the church bells ringing that night."

"Yes, Martin, I'm sure you do." Elizabeth smiled
apologetically at the captain. "Martin was quite upset. The bells woke us all up—"

"No, madam. I beg your pardon, but I was already awake. It was the young American who had woken me up. The wind must have caught the door as he left. It slammed very hard indeed. It was quite some time after that when the bells rang."

The captain gave him a sharp look. "Young American? Are you talking about Squadron Leader Sam Cutter?"

Martin appeared offended at being spoken to so harshly. "I believe that is the gentleman's name, yes."

"Do you know what time he left the house?"

Elizabeth cut in. "Martin sometimes gets confused, Captain. I'm sure he doesn't remember what time it was."

"Oh, but I do, madam. I remember precisely. I heard the grandfather clock in the hall chime twice as I stood at the window."

Elizabeth's gasp of dismay sounded loud in the quiet room.

The captain looked down at his notes. "According to the squadron leader, he attended a card game on the base, then returned home shortly before midnight. Did anyone see him enter the house?"

"Why don't you ask his fellow officers?" Elizabeth suggested. "They must know what time he arrived home."

"They do." Captain Johansen lifted his head. "They confirmed he arrived at the time he said he did. It's the time he left again that we can't agree on. No one remembers seeing him in the room when the church bells rang, and now, if this gentleman is correct—"

"There is no question about it," Martin declared, sounding more lucid than he had in weeks. "I heard a noise and went to my window to investigate. I saw the American chap running down the steps and across the
courtyard. The moon was very bright that night. I saw his face quite clearly."

Of course Martin had to choose this time to experience a clear mind, Elizabeth thought. "Thank you, Martin," she said quickly. "The coffee, please?"

"Yes, madam." With a courtly little bow, Martin left the room.

"Sam did leave before the bells rang," Polly said suddenly. "He was at my house."

Elizabeth threw her a startled glance. Heavens, surely the child was not going to lie in order to save the squadron leader?

The captain pounced on her at once. "Didn't you tell me you didn't see Cutter that night until you arrived at the church?"

Polly stared steadily into the man's suspicious face. "Yes, I did. That
was
when I first saw him. Sam and I'd had a row, and he came to my house that night to make up. It was late and everyone was asleep. He told me he sat outside my house for a long time trying to think what he wanted to say, and wondering whether he should wake me up or not. Then he heard the bells ringing and everyone started coming out of their houses. Sam said he didn't want to get me in trouble, so he drove back past the church and that's when he saw his mates, so he went over to join them."

The captain made no comment, but just sat there scribbling in his notebook. Elizabeth glanced at Lieutenant Wiles and tried to read his expression. Neither man was giving much away.

"So you see," Polly said, a little desperately, "it couldn't have been Sam that murdered Kenny Morris. He didn't go near the church until after the bells stopped ringing and everyone saw him there with his mates. If he'd done the murder, he wouldn't have hung around like that, would he?"

"Who knows what a guy will do when he's under
stress," Captain Johansen murmured. "Or what he'll say. My guess is that he met Morris at the church, they fought, cutting Cutter's hand in the struggle. Cutter choked Morris with the bell rope, making the bells ring, then panicked. He was on his way to your house, perhaps to hide, or at least ask for help, when he saw everyone heading for the church. He turned around and headed back. When he saw his fellow officers, he joined them, hoping they'd cover for him. Luckily for them, they didn't."

Polly, who had been shaking her head throughout this dispassionate speech, burst out, "No! He didn't do it. I know he didn't do it. He cut his hand on a broken bottle at the card game. He told me that's what happened." She was obviously doing her best not to cry, and Elizabeth put an arm around her shoulders.

"It's all right, Polly," she murmured, knowing in her heart that it wasn't all right at all. Turning back to the captain, she asked quietly, "Would it be possible for me to have a word with the squadron leader?"

Polly immediately looked hopeful.

The captain, however, shook his head. "Sorry, ma'am. Cutter is confined to barracks. He's not talking to anyone right now."

Polly sniffed, and hunted for her handkerchief.

A light tap on the door broke the awkward silence that followed. Martin appeared, carrying a tray with a silver coffeepot and several small cups and saucers.

Elizabeth nudged Polly, who jumped up and took the tray from the elderly man's shaking hands.

She managed a timid smile, and Martin peered at her over the top of his glasses. "Are you all right, miss?"

She looked surprised, but gave him a quick nod. "Thank you, Martin." She put the tray down on the low table in front of Elizabeth. "Shall I pour, your ladyship?"

Elizabeth gave her a smile of approval. Things were looking up. Not so long ago Polly would have dumped
the tray down and fled the room. "That would be very nice, Polly. Thank you."

"Will that be all, madam?" Martin inquired.

"Yes, thank you, Martin."

"Very well, madam."

He left the room again, and Elizabeth noticed with a flash of amusement that both the lieutenant and the captain stared after him with a faint air of disbelief. No doubt this was their first encounter with a genuine English butler. They probably didn't know what to make of him.

She watched Polly carefully pour the coffee into each demitasse. After handing Elizabeth the tiny cup and saucer, she served the same to each of the Americans, both of whom accepted them as if they'd never seen coffee before.

"Cream, your ladyship?" Polly, who was obviously doing her best to impress, poured a small amount of cream from the silver jug, then turned to the captain.

He shook his head. "I'll take it black, thanks."

"Our coffee is a little stronger than you're accustomed to," Elizabeth said, remembering the first time Earl had tasted the English version. "You might want to add a little cream."

The lieutenant was already lifting the cup to his lips, which looked even smaller in his pudgy hand.

Both Elizabeth and Polly watched with interest as he took a hearty sip. An instant later his face screwed up as if he'd bitten into a lemon. For a moment Elizabeth thought he would spit out the bitter brew, but with remarkable presence of mind he swallowed it down, albeit with a shudder. Pretty much the same reaction Earl had had. He'd learned to take cream with his coffee after that.

Apparently deciding that he wasn't going to risk it, Captain Johansen put his cup down untouched. "We
must be getting back to the base, ma'am. Thank you for your time."

"Not at all." Elizabeth rose, and both men jumped to their feet. "I'm sorry we can't help you any further."

"Oh, I think you've helped a great deal." The captain touched his forehead with his fingers. "We'll see ourselves out, ma'am."

She inclined her head in graceful acknowledgment.

Pulling his hat on his head, the captain walked briskly to the door, followed by the lieutenant.

Polly waited until the door had closed behind them before saying glumly, "He's bloomin' right. We helped him all right. We helped make things worse for Sam, didn't we?"

"You told the truth, Polly, that's all that matters."

"I wish he would have let you talk to Sam, m'm. I know you would have found a way to help him. You're so good at that."

Elizabeth frowned. "I wish I could have had a word with him. Maybe Major Monroe can help. I'll talk to him about it."

"Oh, would you, m'm?"

Elizabeth hated to raise false hopes in the child, but she didn't have the heart to disappoint her right then. Polly had been through enough for one day. "I don't know what he can do to help," she said, trying to sound positive, "but I'm sure he'll come up with something."

The truth was, she was anxious to talk to Earl and find out exactly what his opinions were about Sam Cutter. From everything she'd heard, the young man could be in serious trouble. He had a motive, means, and opportunity. And only his word for an alibi.

There was also no proof, however, that he hadn't been telling Polly the truth about the way he cut his hand and that he'd sat outside her house while Kenny was fighting for his life in the bell tower. Perhaps a word with his
fellow officers might help. She made up her mind to ask Earl about it that very evening.

As it happened, Earl arrived back from the base earlier than usual that day. All operations had been suspended, thanks to an approaching storm over the channel, he told her, when he surprised her on the back terrace as she was attempting to teach the puppies to come to her on command.

"Perhaps you'd care to join me for dinner tonight?" she suggested, hoping passionately that Violet had something suitable in the larder.

"Sounds great." He smiled at her, though knowing him as well as she did, she detected a deep concern behind the warmth in his light blue eyes.

How she longed to smooth away those worry lines in his forehead. The ache in her heart almost took her breath away. She heard herself saying, "How about an aperitif in the conservatory beforehand? About seven?" Just the thought of being alone with him in her special place made her heart beat faster. It was wrong, and it was forbidden—this secret yearning she felt for him. And so utterly inescapable.

From the moment she had first set eyes on the handsome major, she had been unable to control this fluttering inside whenever she was near him. Fortunately for her, Earl was married, and therefore unobtainable. For had it been otherwise, she might have foolishly compromised her heart, and that was something she had sworn never to do again.

Yet, there were times, like right now, watching his fingers ruffle the soft fur at Gracie's neck, a smile lurking at his mouth, when the ache became almost unbearable.

He looked up, and caught her watching him. His face stilled, and for an eternal moment it was as if she were captured by the sudden knowledge in his eyes, then he
dropped his chin and scooped up the wriggling mass of black and white fur.