There were certain codes that she must adhere to, however, and harboring lascivious thoughts about a married man was definitely forbidden. To do so would only bring heartache to too many people.
Nevertheless, as she climbed aboard her shiny red motorcycle, she couldn’t help smiling at the thought of dining alone with the major that night. His conversations were always fascinating and amusing. Surely it couldn’t hurt to enjoy his company for one evening.
Her smile faded as she chugged down the driveway. If Marlene was telling the truth that morning, and the German pilot had brutally killed a young woman, she was going to need someone to make her feel better.
CHAPTER3
The police station was tucked behind a row of shops at the very end of the High Street. The small, white-brick building had once served as a stables when horses were the popular mode of transport. Although the renovation into headquarters for the local constabulary had taken place at least twenty years ago, Elizabeth swore she could still smell horses whenever she walked into the damp, musty room used as the front office.
The chair behind the deeply scarred desk was empty, but voices could be heard muttering behind the closed door of the back room. Whatever the conversation was about, it had to be meaningful, since no one, apparently, had heard the tinkling of the bell on the door.
Elizabeth coughed loudly. The voices continued without a break. Growing impatient, she peeled off one of her gloves and rapped on the desk with her knuckles.
The voices stopped abruptly, and a second or two later the door opened. P.C. George Dalrymple’s round, benevolent face appeared in the gap. Upon sight of his visitor, the door widened, and he hurried forward. “Lady Elizabeth! I’m so sorry, m’m. Didn’t hear you come in. Have you been waiting long?”
“Not too long.” Without waiting to be asked, Elizabeth plopped herself down on the visitor’s chair. “I tried to ring you, but there was no answer.”
George’s eyes slid sideways. “Oh, yes, well, we just got back, Sid and I. Had a bit of business to take care of in town.”
“That business wouldn’t have anything to do with a young lady from the Macclesby farm, by any chance?”
George’s gaze snapped back to her face, and he drew a hand across the shiny bald dome of his head. “Ah, well, I’m not at liberty to say, m’m.”
Elizabeth crossed her ankles and folded her hands in her lap. “Now, George, you know perfectly well that you can’t keep anything a secret in this village. I heard that the body of a land girl has been found in the woods. Am I correct?”
“I’d like very much to know how you found out about that, m’m, if you don’t mind me asking?”
So it was true. Elizabeth’s heart sank. “I found out the same way one finds out about everything going on in Sitting Marsh.” She fixed a stern eye on George’s worried face. “You might as well stop worrying about giving me information, George. The local grapevine is only a half step behind you.”
“That may well be, m’m, but I’d be breaking the rules if I told you anything about the investigation at this point.”
Elizabeth sighed. She had played this game so often. She’d have to pry the information out of him. Fortunately that wasn’t as difficult as George would have her believe. “So you do admit there is an investigation going on, then?”
George lifted his face to the ceiling. “I think we can safely say that.”
“And the dead body of a land girl was found in the woods?”
“I’m not denying that.”
“From the Macclesby farm?”
“I believe that might be so.”
“Do you know her name?”
“I believe we do.”
“Can you at least give me her first name?”
George laced his fingers across his chest. “She had a hankie with her initials embroidered on it. First two letters of the alphabet.”
“AB?”
He nodded.
“Do you have any suspects?”
He lowered his chin. “If I did, m’m, it might be a little difficult bringing him to justice. Since he’s disappeared, if you get my meaning.”
Elizabeth narrowed her eyes. “Are you talking about the German pilot who escaped yesterday?”
“Seems that way.”
“What makes you think he’s the killer?”
He shrugged. “Right place at the wrong time, mostly. Can’t be too many dangerous criminals running around Hawthorn Woods.”
“So you have no real proof.”
George looked uncomfortable. “Who else would want to cut open a young girl’s head with an axe? Only someone who didn’t want to be taken prisoner, that’s who. She was killed some time last night. The same day a German pilot lands in the village and escapes into the woods. Too much of a coincidence if you ask me.”
Elizabeth thought about the young man standing shivering on the village green. “You found the axe?”
“No, m’m. Not yet. We reckon he buried it in the woods. We’re asking the army blokes to help us find it. They’re already looking for him, so it’ll just be a matter of time-” He broke off and slapped a hand over his mouth. “You didn’t hear me say any of that.”
“I heard you bloody say all of that,” Sid’s deep voice said from the back room.
Elizabeth rose. “Don’t worry, George. I won’t pass any of it on. Has anyone been out to the farm to inform Sheila Macclesby?”
“Not yet, m’m. The next of kin have to be informed first. Then we have to make arrangements to recover the body.”
“Well, why don’t you do that, and I’ll run over and let Sheila know. If she doesn’t know already.”
George looked doubtful, and Elizabeth forestalled any objections he might raise.
“I’m going out that way, anyway,” she said firmly as she crossed the room to the door. “I’ll save you the trip. I’ll tell Sheila you’ll be out to ask her some questions later.”
“Well, I don’t know as if that’s a good idea-”
“I think you should get on the phone right away and ring those poor parents,” Elizabeth said gently. “I’m sure they’ll want to make arrangements to come down here.”
George’s expression changed, and Elizabeth felt a pang of sympathy. It had to be so difficult to break such beastly news. She left quickly, before George could come up with a good reason why she couldn’t go out to the Macclesby farm. She very much wanted the chance to talk to Sheila before George added the woman to his official investigation. People tended to talk more freely if they thought they were simply gossiping.
On the way out there, Elizabeth did her best to curb the feeling of anticipation. A young girl had been brutally murdered, and this was no time to rejoice in the fact that she was hot on the trail of a murderer. Yet she couldn’t contain the feeling of excitement at once more being involved in a murder case.
Ever since her parents had died two years earlier, she had struggled to take her father’s place in the village. Having lived in London until then, it had taken a great deal of effort to overcome the mistrust of the tenants in Sitting Marsh. She could understand their reluctance to accept her as their new administrator. The vast estate of the Manor House, which included the cottages in the village and the land upon which the High Street and its shops were built, had been overseen by earls for centuries.
This was the first time the village’s main benefactor and protector had been a woman, and the daughter of a commoner, no less. Although Elizabeth had grown up at the Manor House, she had always been aware of a certain undercurrent whenever she had been in contact with the villagers. From the moment she inherited the Manor House and its holdings, she’d been determined to wipe out that aura of distrust.
