Murders in the Blitz (24 page)

In spite of her earlier reservations she found that she had enjoyed the afternoon. Lady Passmore’s manner annoyed her less and she’d proved to be less formal and condescending than Eve had expected. Her ladyship’s evident concern for her absent children and husband had shown that she was a typical wife and mother, worrying and hoping that her family would keep safe through the war. Perhaps she wasn’t such a tough old bat after all.

Chapter Nine

Eve woke on Monday morning with a nagging feeling that there was something she should be doing. She recognised that she wasn’t at all happy with the lack of progress made by the police in finding out the identity of the body found in Barrington Wood. Eve had given the poor woman a name; she couldn’t bear to keep thinking of her merely as a bag of bones, and had started to call her Persephone, after the Queen of the Underworld. Persephone must have come from somewhere and Eve was determined to find out where if she possibly could.

She had to make a start on the project and thought that the public library would be a good place, and perhaps Highston Town Hall might also yield some clues. After breakfast she told Grace her plans and got ready to meet the bus.

‘Are you sure you want to get involved in all this, Eve?’ her sister asked. ‘After all, you’ll be going home next weekend and then you can forget all about it.’

‘I’m sorry, Grace. I can’t just forget it. That poor woman was murdered and I need to find out who she was – maybe even find out who did it.’

Grace sighed and gave in as Eve knew she would. Eve had always been the more persuasive of the two sisters, not always with good results as she’d frequently landed Grace in trouble when they were children. Eve gave her a hug full of affection before she left the house.

‘You’ve no need to worry about me; I enjoy this kind of thing. Don’t work too hard. I’ll be back by teatime to help with the mob.’

*

Eve stood at the bus stop for what seemed ages, but the bus arrived eventually and again Eve endured the laborious journey into Highston, with the vehicle stopping every few hundred yards to pick up someone or other. The driver didn’t seem to feel it necessary to halt the bus at only the official stops; he stopped wherever a person he knew flagged him down, and that happened often. By the time they arrived in Highston, Eve was wound up with annoyance at the time that had been wasted. That sort of nonsense wouldn’t be tolerated on a bus route in London, especially with all the disruption caused by the bombing; life would be even more chaotic than it was already.

It was now well into the morning and Eve hurried to get started in the library, situated in a street off the market square. The space available for books and local records had been reduced due to the presence of wartime government offices in the building. Books and papers were stacked haphazardly, often on the floor. Eve looked around in despair; finding what she wanted was not going to be easy. She asked for the librarian’s help.

‘Here are the electoral registers,’ the woman said. ‘They cover all the villages around here, and the smaller towns. The authorities don’t like people moving around too much nowadays – so they can keep an eye on us I suppose.’

‘Oh,’ said Eve. ‘So these will be pretty much all the people who’ve lived round here for the last few years.’

‘Yes. And here are the Forces lists so you can tell who’s away in the Army, Air Force and so on. It means that the police can keep track of any strangers that turn up in the area, in case they’re German spies – you know, those fifth columnists they’re always warning us about.’

Eve hoped that this practice of keeping extensive records also meant that if anybody disappeared without explanation that would be recorded. Persephone should be here somewhere unless she came from much further afield. The Services lists for each village eliminated a large chunk of the local population. By comparing one list with the other Eve hoped to see if anyone was unaccounted for.

*

After a frustrating hour or so, Eve hadn’t been able to discover anyone missing without explanation from any of the places within a twenty mile radius of Highston. No woman of any age was recorded as missing, let alone one of Persephone’s age. Perhaps she’d have to look further afield. But first, she ought to look up recorded deaths as they might give her a clue to where to start her search. It didn’t take long to find a list of women deceased within the last couple of years. If Persephone had died before then Eve wouldn’t be likely to find her now. Of course, if she’d been certified dead there would have been a funeral and she couldn’t have been the body dumped in Barrington Wood.

Eve wished she had Inspector Reid here to ask for his advice. He always managed to point her in the right direction. She continued to study the list of recorded deaths. There were several women here; none of them from Little Barrington. It began to dawn on Eve that it wasn’t what was here that was puzzling, but the information that wasn’t recorded and should have been. She checked through the records again. No, it wasn’t here. Baffled by the absence of the information she sought, Eve decided it was time to go back to Little Barrington with the scant facts she had, even though it was mostly negative. She decided that she’d remain silent for now about what she’d found, or rather, not found. It wouldn’t do for gossip to get round the village until she’d discovered more and asked questions. She packed away the papers she’d been reading, thanked the librarian for her help and walked round to the Town Hall. The records there also failed to reveal the information she’d expected to find. It was very odd. Afterwards she found a cosy cafe in a side street for a lunch of beans on toast and a cup of tea. Her thoughts wandered around her findings as she ate her meal, considering the implications of what she suspected.

*

Eve arrived in the village in the late afternoon to find the house in an uproar. The children were running wild in the house and garden while Grace prepared their supper.

‘Oh, thank God you’re back,’ her sister said, wiping a hand across her sweating forehead, much more agitated than was usual for her and appearing limp with fatigue. ‘They’re driving me mad. Hugh’s not coming home till late tonight. He’s been at a Home Guard meeting in the Church Hall since school finished.’

Hugh was Captain of the local Home Guard and took his duties very seriously, even if the local platoon’s lack of expertise and weaponry made it somewhat comical. As most members were over fifty and some quite infirm, Hugh despaired of their capability as a defence force.

‘I’m sorry. I would have come back earlier if I’d know,’ said Eve. ‘I thought he’d be here to help you when the kids came home from school. It took me longer than I thought and the bus was incredibly slow.’ She strode out into the garden. ‘Come on, you lot, that’s enough noise for now. I’ll read you a story before tea if you’ll come in and sit down quietly.’

Some of the younger children were clearly tired after a full day at school. They began to slouch back into the house when Eve noticed that someone was absent from the throng.

‘Where’s Stan?’ she asked.

‘He was kept in, Miss. Teacher wanted him to do some extra.’

Eve had heard that Stan’s reading wasn’t up to scratch and presumed his teacher was helping him catch up with the others.

‘All right. I’m sure he’ll be back in time for tea.’

Eve sent June’s girls home – let her calm them down, she thought − and managed to get the rest of the children to sit in a quiet circle in the sitting room. She’d read several chapters of ‘Alice Through the Looking Glass’ before Grace summoned them to the kitchen. Just as Eve was putting the book away, Stan dashed in through the French windows from the garden, out of breath as he’d plainly been running hard. His school tie was missing, his blazer smirched with mud and his socks hung down round his ankles.

‘You look a dreadful mess, Stan. Go and get tidied up now, love, we’re going to eat in a minute.’

‘But, M-miss...’ Stan stammered, a frown on his pale brow and Eve thought he was about to protest.

‘Not now, Stan, no arguing, there isn’t time. Go and get ready for tea, Aunty Grace is waiting for us.’

With a reluctant shrug, as if he had a lot more to say, Stan turned and dragged his feet upstairs to pull a comb through his curls, wash his hands and take off his blazer. When he sat at the kitchen table with the others he was unusually taciturn and thoughtful and didn’t eat much supper. Eve supposed he was sulking because she’d told him off. But she knew Stan’s sulks didn’t last long and he’d be bouncing around as usual by bedtime. She had her own concerns. She had to find a way to ask some pertinent questions and didn’t know how. She wasn’t an acknowledged part of the police force as she was in Shepherds Bush. Here she’d have to take a more subtle approach and it wasn’t going to be easy.

Occupied with thinking and clearing up the supper, she didn’t notice that Stan’s bad mood and silence continued until bedtime. When she went to turn out the light in the boys’ room she didn’t see that Stan had turned his pale face to the wall, his eyes wide open, staring at the whitewashed plaster with dread.

Chapter Ten

Bright and early, the morning clearer than they’d seen in weeks, Eve walked down the hill, taking the children to school, enjoying the sunshine and the scent of flowers. Most mornings they let the children walk on their own, but today Eve took them because Stan had begged her to and the weather was good. After breakfast he’d grabbed her hand and gazed into her face with an unusually serious air.

‘Will you take us to school today, Miss?’ he asked. ‘Please.’

Eve looked at him in surprise. ‘Are you in trouble, Stan? Do you want me to talk to your teacher, or Uncle Hugh?’

‘No, it’s not that, Miss. I...’

One of the girls, who need her hair plaiting, took Eve’s attention away from the worried little boy and she didn’t hear the rest of what he had to say.

She enjoyed walking with the children on such a lovely morning. She noticed that Stan ran on ahead, keeping close to the other boys, especially his brother Albert. He seems all right now, she thought. I expect he’ll be his usual happy self by this afternoon; he likes school. She waved the children into the building.

‘Enjoy your day,’ she called as she turned for home. ‘Be good.’

Any concerns Eve may have had about Stan’s odd behaviour were overwhelmed a few moments later, when she was halfway up the hill and Mrs Gough dashed on to the pavement ahead of her, arms waving frantically and an expression of horror on her face, as she tried to articulate the terror that stuck in her throat. She seemed to have burst out of the Gossard twins’ cottage.

‘Oh, Miss Duncan!’ she cried. ‘Thank goodness. Please, go inside and help Emily. I must go to the phone box and call the police.’ Mabel turned away, up the hill, before Eve had a chance to find out what had happened, but she could tell it was nothing good. From inside the cottage she could hear a horrible wailing that sent tremors of fear up her spine. She pushed open the gate, thrusting aside the hollyhocks, sunflowers and fragrant lavender fronds, and dashed into the house.

The cruel sound came from the kitchen, which was flooded with morning sunlight so vivid that the tableau Eve saw from the doorway was brilliantly lit in all its horror. Eve had to steady herself against the doorframe as shock hit her like a blow.

Emily Gossard, her blue frock smeared with scarlet, was kneeling on the floor over the body of her sister Vera. Vera lay on her back near the door to the garden, a long carving knife protruding from her chest. Her inert body was covered in copious amounts of blood which had merged with the red of her dress in deeper patches. A lake of blood encircled her; shiny and crimson on the lino floor.

The scene was so dreadful that Eve felt faint for a moment. She had seen bodies before, but none so brutally exposed in death as this one. She pulled herself together, knowing that her compassion was better directed towards the living than the departed. Eve could see that Vera was beyond help, but Emily needed immediate aid. She went to the stricken woman holding her sister’s head in her lap, and took her by the shoulders from behind, coaxing her to rise.

‘Come, Emily,’ she said, ‘there’s nothing you can do for Vera now. Come into the sitting room, away from here. Come on, dear, you need to sit down.’

Reluctantly, Emily stumbled to her feet, still sobbing loudly, but the shrill wailing had ceased for the moment. She allowed Eve to guide her into the front parlour, a gloomier room that the sunshine in the kitchen didn’t reach, and Emily sat on the solid sofa, hugging her knees to her chest and rocking back and forth in helpless, constant motion. Eve turned on the light and put a match to the coals laid ready in the grate. The day might be warm, but Emily needed the comfort of a fire.

Eve had no wish to go back to the terrible scene in the kitchen, but she knew that Emily would benefit greatly from a cup of strong, sweet tea. Eve patted the twin’s shoulder, her sympathy almost causing her own tears to flow, but the woman barely seemed to notice her presence.

‘I won’t be a moment, Emily. I’ll make some tea. Mrs Gough’s gone to call the police. She’ll be back soon.’

Eve returned to the kitchen and managed to avoid the gore by walking to the left of the kitchen table to the sink. She tried not to look at Vera’s body, with its staring eyes and pale, fearful features and the blood, all that blood. Eve filled the kettle and set it on the hob to boil. She found that the rest of the tea things, the pot with tea leaves in it, cups and saucers, milk and sugar, were ready on the oil-cloth covered kitchen table, where someone had prepared them earlier. Rather than wait for the kettle to boil, Eve climbed the narrow stairs and found a blanket and a pillow for Emily in one of the bedrooms.

Back in the sitting room, Emily was silent now, but tears still rolled down her cheeks. She was staring blindly into the fire as Eve put the blanket around her shoulders and the pillow behind her back. Dumbly Emily pulled the rug closer with a fist rigid with tension.

‘Lean back on the pillow, Emily,’ Eve said, ‘you’ll feel more comfortable. I’ll bring the tea in a minute.’

She went back to the kitchen and, trying to ignore the stench and sight of the body, poured boiling water into the pot, stirred and set it on a tray. She was soon putting the tray on a side table next to the settee and filling a cup for Emily. The bereaved woman showed no sign of taking the tea, but groped in her cardigan sleeve for a handkerchief and blew her nose. Eve persuaded her to take a few sips of the drink, holding the cup to Emily’s mouth as if she were a sick child. She could hear Mrs Gough coming up the path to the cottage, speaking in a harsh whisper to a companion.

Mabel Gough walked through the front door and came into the room with Doctor Russell following; carrying his leather bag.

‘The Police said I should get Dr Russell to come and ... you know.’

Eve knew, of course, that the doctor was there to pronounce poor Vera dead. He already knew his way to the kitchen and left Mrs Gough with Eve and Emily in the sitting room while he examined Vera’s body.

‘What a terrible, terrible thing,’ said Mrs Gough. ‘Who could have done such a thing to poor Vera who’d never hurt a fly? Do you think it could’ve been one of those soldiers from the Hall? Some of them are quite deranged, they say.’

Eve shook her head at this idea while Emily sat there, rocking back and forth, moaning softly. Poor woman, thought Eve, she’d lost her fiancé in the first war and now her twin sister − she is truly alone.

The doctor returned to the front room and nodded with solemn authority. ‘Well, that’s pretty clear,’ he said. ‘I’d better wait here until the police and the Coroner’s people arrive. Mrs Gough, would you be good enough to go down to my surgery and tell Maggie I won’t be in till much later? There’ll be people turning up for surgery by now. I suppose you’d better tell them what’s happened, but we don’t want them coming up here to take a look. Try to discourage them, would you?’

‘Don’t worry, doctor,’ said Mrs Gough, looking relieved at an excuse to get away from the misery in the cottage. ‘I’ll make sure nobody comes up here being nosy. Once the police are here they’ll keep ‘em away.’

‘Thank you.’ By now the doctor had sat beside Emily on the sofa and was chafing her hands between his own. ‘Come on, Miss Gossard, drink some of this tea, it’ll make you feel better.’

Emily turned her face towards him, her eyes brimming with ever more tears waiting to fall. ‘Better?’ she said. ‘How can I ever feel better?’

‘No, my dear. Maybe not better, but you have to keep going. It is what Vera would want. You’re going to have to be brave. The police will be here in a minute and they’ll want to know if you saw anything; if you have any idea who may have done this terrible thing to your poor sister.’

For the first time, Eve felt compelled to say something. ‘Was anyone here this morning, Emily? Did anyone come to the house?’

Emily turned those drowning eyes to Eve and gulped. Once she started to speak she seemed unable to stop. ‘I went out. To the shop. Vera was getting breakfast ready. We’d run out of bread and I chatted to Agnes, Mrs Forbes, for a bit. Fred Gardiner was there when I arrived, but he soon left. Had to catch the bus to Highston I expect. I was in the shop about ten minutes; Agnes’s having trouble with her lumbago, it’s giving her a lot of pain and I recommended some things what’ve helped Vera and me. On the way home I bumped into the Reverend, but he was in a hurry, so I didn’t keep him. Then I came in, into the kitchen and there she was...’ Emily’s voice rose to a painful screech and Eve could see that another outpouring of sorrow was imminent. It seemed to be the best thing for the poor woman at the moment.

When she had calmed down the doctor patted Emily’s hand while Eve stoked the fire and then the three sat in gloomy silence, punctuated by the occasional sob from Emily, waiting for the police to arrive.

*

Two police cars and the Coroner’s van pulled up outside the twins’ cottage. One contained the Inspector with his sergeant in the driver’s seat and the other a team of three investigators with their equipment. It crossed Eve’s mind that it was beginning to look as if Little Barrington had become the murder capital of the county. Of course, the arrival of the convoy of cars brought gawkers out of the neighbouring cottages and they began to gather in the road, speculating on events, chattering like a flock of starlings. Stern orders were required from the constable, the one whom Eve had met before, to keep them away from the cottage and back on the pavement on the other side of the street. Eve watched from the doorway as the police took wooden trestles from one of the vehicles and placed them in front of the house to keep people from coming too close.

‘Well, Miss Duncan,’ said the Inspector as he emerged from his car, putting on his cap, ‘we meet again. I’m beginning to think you may be bringing bad luck to our little community.’

‘I do hope not, Inspector. I just always seem to be in the wrong place.’

‘Well, I don’t suppose this incident has anything to do with the woman you found up in the woods. Who is this poor lady? Who could have done this to her? Do we have any idea if she had any enemies?’

Eve had no immediate answers to any of this string of questions. She explained, as she led him into the cottage, that she hadn’t known anyone in the village for long.

Clearly Inspector Grafton had been briefed on what had happened on the way here from Highston. He followed Eve in and stood with her at the doorway to the kitchen, surveying the murder scene and watched as his investigative team took flash photographs of Vera’s body before it was lifted onto a stretcher and carried to the van. The vehicle, with the coroner’s man driving, hurried to town and the mortuary. Even though it was clear how Vera had died there would still have to be a post-mortem. The time of death was also known to within a few minutes because there was no more than half an hour between Emily’s last sight of Vera alive in the kitchen and her return from the village shop to discover the grizzly scene.

The investigators continued their work in the kitchen, dusting surfaces for finger prints. They also examined the back door which had stood open throughout. It appeared that the murderer had entered and left through that way into the garden. There were faint smudges of blood on the lino between the body and the door, and on the bricks of the step outside. It occurred to Eve that the murderer would almost certainly have had blood on their clothes. Later they would want to find out if the knife was one that belonged to the twins or if the murderer had brought it with him.

Eve took the Inspector through to the living room where Emily still sat immobile on the sofa with the doctor by her side. A sergeant with a notebook followed them in and sat quietly to the side of the room, making a record of the proceedings.

The surviving Miss Gossard was silent now. The tears had ceased to flow, and she sat upright and stiff on the settee. The sweet tea had done little to delay the inevitable onslaught of shock, but the extreme torrent of grief had abated for a while.

‘Doctor, don’t you think Emily would be better lying down on her bed? She’s had a terrible shock,’ said Eve.

‘I agree,’ said Dr. Russell. ‘Let’s take her up there now.’ He stood and prepared to assist Emily from her stupor and on to her feet.

‘I’m sorry, Doctor,’ said the Inspector, ‘but I need to ask Miss Gossard a few questions first.’

‘I really don’t think she’ll be able to answer just now. She’s very upset.’

Emily jerked her head up, as if she’d just realized that a conversation was going on around her. She spoke in a surprisingly strong voice. ‘No, I’ll answer your questions now. I have all the rest of my life to lie down in my room, now I’m alone.’ Tears swam in her eyes again and she grasped the damp handkerchief in her fist and wiped them away. ‘Please, Inspector, ask me anything you have to.’

Inspector Grafton used the same gentle tones that he had when talking to the children after the discovery of the bones. He sat in an armchair near the fire and leant forward towards Emily as if they were having a normal, friendly conversation.

‘Did you see anyone in the road when you went off to buy the bread, Miss Gossard? Were there many people about?’

‘Oh, yes, sir,’ she murmured at first and then her voice speeded up and strengthened as she remembered what she’d seen. ‘There were plenty of people out and about. I said good morning to them as I walked down the hill. There were mothers climbing the hill after dropping their children off at school and people on their way to the bus and to work, Mrs Metcalf was one of them. There were a couple of soldiers from the Hall out for a walk – one of them was trying to use crutches.’ Emily paused a moment to blow her nose. ‘Then later, on the way back, I met Reverend Groome coming down the hill, but he didn’t have time to stop and chat and then there was Mabel, Mrs Gough and I asked her in for a cup of tea. Vera and I were late for breakfast this morning and I’d forgotten the bread. Mabel and I came in through the front door and into the kitchen and there she was...’ Emily’s words trailed off, her distress colouring her voice with horror.