“Thank you, m’m, I’d appreciate that. Nothing I say does any good. When I told them they were trespassing, Rita kept telling me it’s wartime, and the rules don’t count anymore. What I say is that no matter if there’s a war on or not, a person’s property is private, and I should be able to order them off my land.”
“Quite right, Sheila. I’ll see to it right away.” Elizabeth turned to leave, then paused. “Before I go, though, I wonder if you’d mind taking a closer look at these buttons? They are rather distinctive, and I’d like to know if you remember seeing them anywhere before.”
She held out the buttons, and Sheila took them into her hand as if afraid they would burn her skin. She turned them over, then hastily handed them back to Elizabeth. “Sorry, m’m. Never saw them before in my life. I’m sorry I can’t help you.”
“That’s all right.” Elizabeth opened the door. “Maybe one of the girls will recognize them. I hope you won’t mind if I have a word with them?”
For a moment or two Sheila looked as if she might argue, but then she shook her head. “Not at all, your ladyship.”
“Thank you, Sheila. I promise I’ll be as quick as I can.”
Elizabeth closed the door, then jumped as Sid’s grating voice said behind her, “Lady Elizabeth! I thought I saw you a little while ago. Come to help us find that bloody German, have you?”
“Not exactly, Sid.” Elizabeth gave him her brightest smile. “I’m sure I can leave that to you and George.”
“That you can, m’m. That you can.” Sid puffed out his chest and beamed all over his face.
For a moment Elizabeth was tempted to show him the buttons then thought better of it. It had already occurred to her that if clothes had indeed been burned on the bonfire, they could possibly belong to the killer and would no doubt have been stained with Amelia’s blood. It was also possible the clothes had been hidden among the sacks by the killer, knowing they would soon be destroyed.
Then again, the clothes could have been discarded by the German pilot, simply to avoid being recognized, though so far no one had reported any clothes stolen, and Elizabeth doubted that the German would be running around the countryside in his underwear. In any case, even if the clothes had been evidence, they were in ashes now and therefore not much use.
As for the buttons, if she handed them over now, she would lose any chance of finding out to whom they belonged. All in all, it seemed prudent to hang on to them for the time being.
She found Maisie in the cornfield, the sleeves of her shirt rolled up to the elbows, stubbornly refusing offers from two young soldiers to help her stack sheaves. The young girl’s face glowed red with exertion as she heaved a heavy load of the corn on its end.
“Cor, look at them muscles,” one of the soldiers said, poking his grinning companion in the shoulder. “I’d watch it if I were you, Doug. She could pick both of us up with one hand.”
“Yeah, right bruiser, this one is.” The second soldier gave Maisie’s shoulder a light punch. “How about a wrestling match then, darlin’? First one on the ground loses.”
Maisie looked as if she were about to cry.
Elizabeth thinned her lips and marched over to them. “Young man, why aren’t you with the rest of your regiment? I was under the impression you were ordered to search for an enemy soldier, not harass the young ladies.”
The soldier named Doug gave her a dirty look. “So who are you then? The sergeant major’s girlfriend?”
Maisie gasped and stared at the soldier in horror at this audacious affront.
Undaunted, Elizabeth drew herself up to her full height. “I’m Lady Elizabeth Hartleigh. May I ask whom I am addressing?”
The soldier appeared taken aback.
“His name is Private Doug McDaniel,” Maisie said helpfully, earning a black scowl for her efforts.
“Well, Private McDaniel,” Elizabeth said grimly, “I suggest you apologize to this young lady and then get back to your duties this very minute, or I shall have no alternative but to report your boorish behavior to your commanding officer, whom, I might add, is a very good friend of mine.”
The soldier’s scowl changed to concern. “Sorry, m’m,” he muttered, “I didn’t mean no harm.”
Maisie just nodded, while the soldiers backed away then turned tail and raced across the field. “Thank you, your ladyship,” she said when the men had climbed over the fence and disappeared from view.
“Not at all.” Elizabeth dusted her gloved hands together. “You have to be firm with these young men today, or they will take advantage of you.”
Maisie’s cheeks turned red again, and she looked down at her boots. “Yes, m’m. I’ll try.” She peeked up again. “Are you really a great friend of their commanding officer?”
“Never met him,” Elizabeth said cheerfully, “but I’m not above telling a little fib or two when it’s absolutely necessary.”
Maisie smiled, transforming her rather plain face into something quite pleasing. “Thank you, m’m.”
“Yes, well.” Elizabeth cleared her throat. “Maisie, I was wondering if you could help me with something?”
“I’ll try,” Maisie said, apparently eager now to return the favor.
“Well, it’s about the spade you left leaning against the house the night Amelia died. You found it in the tool shed the next day, is that right?”
“Yes, m’m.” Maisie seemed troubled. “I didn’t do nothing wrong, did I?”
“No, no, not at all.” Elizabeth smiled at the girl to reassure her. “It’s just that when you found the spade you seemed really surprised to see that it was clean.”
“I was!” Maisie nodded with enthusiasm. “I left it all muddied up and forgot about it. We’re supposed to clean the tools before we put them away. Someone must have cleaned it up for me. That was really nice of them to do that.”
Something in Elizabeth’s face must have alerted her, because her smile faltered, and she added hesitantly, “Why are you asking about… oh!” Her hand slapped her mouth over her gasp. When she took her hand away again, the color had drained from her face. “You think Amelia was killed with my spade?”
Maisie might be naive, Elizabeth thought ruefully, but she wasn’t stupid. “It’s a very remote possibility,” she said quickly, “so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t say anything to anyone about it just yet. We don’t want to cause a lot of trouble over nothing.”
Maisie looked scared, but she nodded. “Mum’s the word,” she said, holding up her right hand. “On my honor.”
“I’m most grateful. By the way, where exactly did you leave the spade that night?”
Maisie thought about it. “Standing against the wall right under Mrs. Macclesby’s bedroom window,” she said at last.
“Thank you, Maisie. You’ve been a big help. Oh, before I forget…” Elizabeth reached in her pocket and pulled out the buttons. “Have you ever seen these buttons before?”
Maisie peered at them. “Well, I couldn’t be sure about it, of course. Some of those buttons look all the same. But…” She paused, as if reluctant to finish the sentence.
“Yes?” Elizabeth prompted.
“Well, as I said, I couldn’t be sure of course, but they look like the buttons on a reefer jacket. Maurice wears one all the time, and his has got buttons like that.”
Elizabeth closed her fingers over the buttons. “Thank you, Maisie. I won’t keep you any longer. I hope you won’t mention this to anyone else.”
“No, m’m. You can count on me. Cross me heart and hope to die.” She drew a cross with her thumb over her chest.
Elizabeth had to leave it at that.
As she hurried across the field to where Rita Crumm’s army of housewives were ravaging the haystack, she couldn’t help wondering if she’d been wrong about Maurice. In spite of his gentle nature, she had to remember that everyone is capable of murder if given enough reason.
If Amelia Brunswick had cruelly rejected him one time too many, it was entirely possible that something had snapped in Maurice’s unstable mind, and in a fit of rage he hit her with the spade, without even understanding the consequences of his action.
It was also possible, she reminded herself, that Sheila knew what he had done and was covering for him. Which would explain her determination to point her finger at the German pilot. She could hardly blame the woman. After
